Maudlin
by OpheliacAngel
Summary: A drunk and deeply emotional John gets Dean thinking about what matters most. Pre-Series, after Sam leaves for Stanford. Sappy Dean/John.


**Title: **Maudlin

**Author: **OpheliacAngel

**Pairings & Characters: **John/Dean

**Genre: **Romance/Family/Hurt/Comfort

**Rating:** Teen

**Summary: **A drunk and deeply emotional John gets Dean thinking about what matters most. Pre-Series, after Sam leaves for Stanford.

**A/N: **What can I say? I just thought Dean and John had so much potential.

* * *

It's screwed up to come home and see his dad passed out on the bed, a half-empty bottle tucked in beside him. He stirs awake when Dean kneels down to pull off his boots, and the eldest son can easily recognize the mood he's in as his eyes open and latch onto Dean. He thinks it must be a miracle that he can even see straight, knows without any hesitation that it's Dean and not a freaking demon like all those other times.

"I don't want you to leave. Please don't leave me, son. Not ever. Don't know what I'd do without you," he slurs, a few stray tears escaping, then he seems to come back to himself, turning over and away from Dean, who swallows thickly and figures he should stand up right about now, give his dad some privacy, figures that'd be the best thing for the both of them now...

His dad turns back over and grasps his hand tightly, desperately when he makes a move to get up, and he opens his mouth before he realizes it. "I'm not going anywhere, Dad. Was just gonna get some fresh air."

John clears his throat, struggling to also clear his head as he releases the grip he has on Dean slowly. The boy winces, sending John's heart surging with guilt. "Go on, then. I'll keep the bed warm for you."

Dean nods, not knowing what else to do, and he can feel his father's eyes on his back as he pulls on his leather jacket and steps outside.

It's freezing, snow still falling and chilling him to the bone, but Dean makes himself move, pacing and keeping an eye on his surroundings. He doesn't know how long he does this, but he must eventually drift off, for when he comes back to himself he can faintly hear his father calling out to him before being engulfed in his warmth. There's a body wrapping itself around him and talking to him lowly, someone dragging him back to the room and into bed, piling thick blankets on him before the body wraps itself around him again. Then there are warm hands pressing deliciously into his belly, rubbing small circles into the skin, and his dad brushes back his hair and hushes him when he shivers, tries to move or talks.

He suspects it's late afternoon when he comes back to himself, enough to realize tears are running silently down his cheeks and his body is trembling, though not only from the cold. His father's behind him, fingers curled in Dean's shirt, but he doesn't stir until Dean moves around a bit.

"What's wrong, Dean? Tell me what's wrong, darling."

"I don't know." But of course he knows: it's Sam, Sam leaving him behind without a second thought that makes his insides twist and his sense of self rupture. That makes him forget how to breathe and why he should even be breathing in the first place.

John's fingers caressing the back of his neck, kneading the tense, sensitive skin there, are what cause him next to sob. He feels like he doesn't deserve this, and he knows he shouldn't be crying but he can't hold it in anymore.

"Easy," his father coos, thumb rubbing over his cheek and down to his neck, causing Dean to swallow self-consciously. "Just let it all out. We got the day off, hell, we got the week off if ya want it." Dean relaxes upon realizing those words mean his father won't have to get out of the bed to go do research. He can just stay curled up around him forever, holding him and keeping it warm. And even though Dean will never say it, it's what he wants.

"Dad?"

"Yeah, son?"

He swallows, still smelling the pungent aroma of whiskey on his father's breath, but this time it doesn't drive him away. "Last night, last night you told me you didn't want me to leave. Is that true?" His father has never lied to him before, not even when it would comfort Dean, but he doesn't understand why his dad needs him so badly. It isn't like he has much to offer.

John's mouth curls up into a smile, and even though the pads of his fingers are rough and calloused, Dean doesn't want them to stop trailing down his back, making him imagine that they're the only two people in the world right now. "Course it is, darling. Might have went about it the wrong way, but you and me, we need each other."

"I... I need this," he swallows thickly, "right now." Because admitting it keeps Dean sane enough to be here and relax.

"I know, tiger." John smiles wider, scooting closer to his son so he can wrap his arms more sufficiently around him, keeping him warm and safe from the world outside. "We can't hide it from each other anymore, it's too real."

_Too perfect_, Dean can't help but think,_ the only thing that can keep me going with Sam gone_.

"Keep thinking about you leaving," he admits. Why the hell should he stop now? He doesn't even think he could anyway, not when his dad actively listens to him and makes known to Dean how much he means to him. "Wondering what my life would be like without you." Even longer than he's known Sammy he's known his dad, loved his dad and even though Sam was driven away by him, and he's so freaking pissed off about it sometimes, Dean knows his father will never leave him behind and that is the only thing he can cling to.

"You don't need to think about it, Dean," John reassures, his mouth latching onto Dean's own, kissing him greedily and the youngest Winchester in the room can feel himself warming up already. "It's never gonna happen. Gonna stay with you forever, darling. Always and forever."

**FIN**


End file.
